Arlo Isabelle McCord, Junior and Reformed Good Person
by parttimevulcan1
Summary: "I like taking the bus. It makes me feel like I'm a regular person, not like someone goes to sleep at night knowing there are no less that twelve armed D.S. agents on the other side of my bedroom wall". Alison's twin sister Arlo, isn't really coping with her mother's new job or the resulting change in family dynamics. She seems to find herself in a spot of trouble. LGBT Character.
1. Prologue

To Whom It May Concern:

I like taking the bus. It makes me feel like I'm a regular person, not like someone who goes to sleep at night knowing there are no less that twelve armed D.S. agents on the other side of my bedroom wall.

I'm writing to you because I am suspended from school, awaiting review. I'm not sure of the exact reason I got suspended; I did a lot of things I shouldn't have done in a very short period of time. Maybe it was because I got drunk at that party and took risqué photos of the senator's daughter. Yeah, the ones on TMZ. I like to think it was some of my finer work. Or it could be because I got caught smoking in the Q block locker room with the 'cool seniors' by Dean Ward. However, the official reason is the bullshit excuse that my hair 'no longer conforms to uniform standards'. Okay, so at the aforementioned party, Amber shaved off the majority of my hair so now I'm kind of left with a faux-hawk. Sebastian said it looked cool so I don't see what the big deal is.

Dr Marcus, Ph.D. in child psychology and school counsellor extraordinaire, believes that my recent behaviour is due to 'conflict in the family environment'. I believe that the good doctor should lighten up on the cologne if he ever wants to have sex again. I'm now isolated in his office so that I do not infect the rest of the school population with my less than stellar mentality. I passed Alison in hallway (my twin - we don't like to talk about it) and the side eye was intense. I could feel her glare boring into my skull as I was escorted by the witch herself to collect my belongings from my locker. Alison was one thing; I'm just waiting for Daisy's (she works for my Mother) reaction when she finds out I'm the one behind the photos. I mean, I took risqué photographs of Senator Lester's daughter; I never posted said photographs. No, Janie's less than genius boyfriend, Michael, was responsible for that shit storm.

The McCords are becoming quite infamous at West Borough. Jason got expelled for punching out that little piece of shit; Stevie's had her very own sex scandal, and now me with my recently acquired charges. I believe Alison is trying to conjure an alternate reality where she is an only child, but evidently she is so far still unsuccessful. I mean, if I had known the series of unfortunate events that would unfold post-relocation I never would have agreed to Mom taking this job. Also, they may have me killed now, so I might have to give up my front row seat to the slow but inevitable implosion of my entire family. That shit is going to be DVR worthy.

My parents are also huge hypocrites. When I lie about something, it is justification for the removal of cell phone and laptop privileges and for the commencement of grounding. However, when Mom and Dad lie about something, Dad is off to San Diego for a religious conference and Mom is definitely not in Iran.

In conclusion, I acknowledge I have not acted in a fashion congruent with the school's code of conduct. My actions were my own and I was under no duress. I will accept full responsibility for said actions, along with any resulting punishment.

Yours somewhat sincerely,

Arlo Isabelle McCord,

Junior and reformed good person


	2. Pigtail Plaits and Holey Overalls

Henry profusely thanks the exasperated headmaster before exiting her office in search of his wayward youngest daughter. He is still struggling to come to terms with the long list of misdemeanors that the teenager had managed to rack up. Henry pinches the bridge of nose, fighting back the image that comes to mind every time his thinks of his little girl. She is no older than ten, dressed in a holey pair of denim overalls that had once belonged to Stevie. Two long, messy plaits of dark brown hair frame her cherubic face. Henry had found the girl in the stables, where she had been helping her mother clean and tend to the horses. Arlo had once worshiped the ground her mother walked on. Henry had always been a little jealous at the ease of the relationship between his wife and their daughter. In Henry's mind, out the four McCord siblings, Arlo was the most like Elizabeth. The girl was incredibly intelligent, compassionate, and selfless. Arlo's recent adventures were very uncharacteristic. The teenager had always been the quieter twin and seemed quite content to follow Alison's lead.

Henry finds his daughter picking at her nails outside of the 'Student Connection Center'. _God, this school is so pretentious_ , he thinks to himself. "What's the damage?" the teenager questions without looking up.

"Two weeks of off-campus suspension and a three month good behavior bond; I was warned if you so much as get a detention it is justification for immediate expulsion."

"Fair enough." The girl finally builds up the courage to look her father in the eye.

"Your apology letter contained some interesting and colorful language there Arlie; I think you missed the point." Henry sighs, meeting Arlo's regretful gaze.

"Yeah, in retrospect I shouldn't have written it when I was still so pissed off."

"They really hate us around here."

"What are you talking about - Mom and Dean Ward are besties!" the teen retorts.

"Your mother and I are going to have a lengthy discussion about your little performance when she gets home."

"I noticed she was absent from this little reunion."

"We thought you would be expelled on the spot if your mom joined us."

"Yeah, probably," the stoic teen scoffs and slings the strap of her backpack over her shoulder. Henry throws his arm over the girl's shoulder and pulls her in close as they make their way towards the lobby. In the brief text conversion that Henry and Elizabeth already shared they were in agreement that neither of them would punish the girl too harshly. They both knew there were deeper, more serious motivators behind their daughter's behavior, none of which would be helped by further alienating the teenager. They could not however speak for Senator Lester, or his team of lawyers. Henry had seen the photos; yes, they were sexually explicit, but not distasteful. The teenager had talent. This, however, was not exactly the desired use of the expensive camera that had been gifted to Arlo last Christmas. Henry knew that underneath his daughter's newly acquired stony exterior was the same little girl with the pigtail plaits and holey overalls and she was really hurting.


	3. A is for Aneurysm

This morning, Daisy Grant had wanted children. Now she is seriously reconsidering that proclamation.

The 'Media Check' was implemented after Alison's Instagram mishap kicked off the 'Starrison' craze. The majority of the daily scouring through the online presence of the McCord youths was spent approving posts on Alison's many accounts, which currently included (but were not limited to) Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, and the newly acquired Periscope. Stevie had sworn off all social media after the Harrison fiasco, even deactivating her Facebook account. Arlo, the notoriously private teenager, followed suit, possessing only an Instagram account. Daisy enjoyed watching the teen's talent flourish through the series of captionless black-and-white photographs she shares with her small following.

Daisy is almost finished reviewing Jason's snapchat story when her headache goes from dull pain to a full-blown migraine. Matt has been incessantly hovering behind her desk for the last ten minutes and is testing the last of Daisy's patience. He has an extreme and somewhat misplaced appreciation for Jason's sense of humor, gaining great enjoyment from watching the young anarchist's adventures. This is where a flustered Blake informs her, through a series of somewhat disjointed sentences, that the Secretary wants to see her immediately.

"Sounds important," Matts mocks, but quickly silences as Daisy shoots him an icy glance.

"Did the Secretary say what she wants to discuss?" Daisy probes Blake, mentally checking that she hasn't forgotten anything from the morning's brief.

"It's better if it comes from the Secretary herself" Blake replies as he opens the sliding door and enters the Secretary's office, the press coordinator in hot pursuit.

"Thank you Blake. Daisy, could you please take a seat." _This is not good!_ Daisy thinks, bracing herself for the inevitable blow.

"This morning a series of sexually explicit photographs of Senator Lester's daughter were leaked to the public," the Secretary calmly begins.

"The ones picked up by TMZ," Daisy interjects. The photographs had made the morning news. The Senator's lawyers were trying to suppress the story but, as his daughter Jane was no longer underage, publishing the photographs was unfortunately not technically illegal. Daisy is still trying to figure out why exactly this requires her attention. The best she can come up with is that Jane also attends West Borough, and so might be friends with one of the twins.

Daisy watches as the Secretary sharply exhales, visibly uncomfortable with what was to come next. "Arlo was the one who took the photographs"

"Your Arlo? " Daisy internally cringes even as the words leave her mouth. Of course, it's all clear now. Arlo McCord. Why did it have to be Arlo McCord! Why couldn't it be some horny footballer with an iPhone, not the Secretary of State's daughter?

"Yeah," the Secretary nervously chuckles as she leans forward to rest her head in her hands.

"Well," Daisy starts with a resigned sigh. "Arlo wasn't named in any reports, and I take it she wasn't the one behind the leak, so that's something at least," The press coordinator tries to remain calm and repress the mildly homicidal urges she's feeling towards a certain group of teenagers.

"I just spoke to Arlo and she was quite forthcoming. The photographs were taken the night before last during a party at the Senator's home." Daisy knew the Secretary would defend the actions of her daughter and chalk it down to a juvenile mistake. However, this mistake could be very costly to the administration. The last thing the Secretary needed was to be accused of raising unruly and sexually deviant children.

"Okay, umm, did anyone see them? Arlo and the Senator's daughter, I mean." Daisy questions as she pulls out a pen and scribbles a note on the back of the binder she's been holding.

"They were in Janie's room. I believe Janie's boyfriend, Michael, was watching." The Secretary forgoes looking at Daisy in favor of fiddling nervously with her wedding ring.

"The photographs, is there a paper tail?" Daisy silently prays that the teenagers had been smart about it.

"Arlo gave them to Janie on a USB. Supposedly they were then emailed to Michael." The Secretary discontinues the futile fidgeting and looks back up at Daisy, her usual air of confidence replaced with one of defeat.

"That's where the leak would have occurred; he probably forwarded them on a friend and someone thought they could make some easy money." Daisy might just be able to spin this. She would have to talk to Arlo to make sure she had her story straight and didn't spare her mother any important details.

"The Senators lawyers haven't contacted us yet, but I can guarantee that once they figure out who took the photos, they will."

Blake interrupts the exchange, reappearing in the doorway to inform the Secretary that her 2 o'clock is waiting for her.

"I will need to talk directly to Arlo," Daisy states as she stands up and straightens her knee-length skirt.

"I'm aware that it needs to happen as soon as possible, but... could it please wait until tomorrow? It's been a pretty full-on day," her boss almost pleads. Daisy isn't sure whether it's a personal admission of exhaustion or a mother desperately trying to protect her child from further pain.

"Of course Ma'am." With that Daisy excuses herself and heads back towards the office she shares with Matt.

Daisy knows that the Senator will mount a witch-hunt. It is yet to be determined whether it will be directed at the ignorant boyfriend or at Arlo, who is in her opinion the relatively innocent party. Why did the teenager have to leapfrog over the gateway misdemeanors and graduate straight to a public sex scandal. Now more than ever Daisy is frustrated by the Millennials' apparent need to document every second of their lives. She swears she can feel the aneurysm forming in her prefrontal cortex. It's going to be a long night.


	4. Bandaids Don't Fix Bullet Holes

She **should** be thinking about the embarrassment she has caused her mother, her sister and not to mention Janie.

She **should** be formulating a plan to successfully complete the following:

\- apologize to literally everyone she has ever met

\- regain some decorum

\- finish Chemistry assignment. ( _how does one even do so once one is suspended._ )

\- fake own death, get new I.D., and move to Canada

Instead Arlo's mind drifts to the contents of a shoebox housed in the depths of her wardrobe. There are only three objects in said box. The first is a packet of cigarettes, a gift from Riley, a fellow West Borough delinquent. The second is a falsified Virginian Drivers License, also from Riley. The final object, arguably the most interesting, is a burner cell. That was not from Riley. No, Arlo had made that purchase on her own during a slight post-track-practice detour. The phone contains a series of incriminating text messages exchanged during the party; messages that could pull even more students into the shit storm she is only just starting to have the pleasure of experiencing.

Arlo reflects on the earlier altercation she had shared with her twin. Alison had intersected her on route to the bathroom, and through gritted teeth questioned whether Arlo 'had achieved all that she set out to'. Then Alison just turned and walked away. That was when it had truly hit Arlo; she had managed to alienate nearly everyone important in her life in less than 48 hours. That had to be some kind of record!

At some point post-altercation, the sun had set, the rest of her family had eaten dinner, and, according to the reshuffling of D.S. agents outside her window, her mother had also arrived home. Chances are it isn't for the night though.

Arlo isn't hungry. Arlo isn't angry. Arlo isn't even sad. She just lies there in complete darkness, embracing the numbness that only comes after hours of crying and intense self-hatred. After being dismissed from school, Arlo had surrendered her laptop and the known cell phone to her dad before retreating up to her room. The only distraction from her Self-Pity Olympics is her old iPod that has droned away on shuffle for hours. Its purpose is to help muffle any sobs that might escape.

Reinhold Gliére's _Russian Sailor's Dance_ starts to play. Arlo decides she just isn't in the mood and thrusts out her arm to silence the intrusive noise. Her aim is slightly off target and the iPod dock tumbles to the ground with an unceremonious thump. "Whatever," the girl exhales. At least now she can be consumed with angst in peace.

"Arlie, are you okay?" comes a stifled voice from other side of her door.

"Umm, yeah," Arlo replies, sitting and wiping away the tear tracks as the door opens to reveal Alison, pink Hello Kitty pyjamas and all.

"Can I come in?" Alison hovers at the threshold waiting for explicit permission to enter.

"Ahh, yeah, sure." Arlo readjusts the beanie covering her newly cropped hair.

"I'm sorry I was like that - earlier I mean," Alison stumbles over her words, not really sure how to convey exactly how she is feeling. Earlier, that was easy. She was pissed. Could her family not just stay out of the media for like five minutes? This would haunt her until graduation, at least. However, seeing Arlo in here alone changed everything. It really hadn't been her fault. No, Michael the owner of no more than two brain cells was truly at fault. How the footballer could be off to college, scholarship and all, had Alison stumped.

"It's okay Allie." Arlo shifts on the bed as Alison crawls in beside her.

"It's freezing in here," Alison states as she reaches down and pulls the thick winter duvet over the both of them.

"I didn't notice, sorry," Arlo mumbles, slightly confused by her twin's change of heart.

"Why were you at the party in first place? It's not really your scene; were you doing the photography?" Alison inquires as she snuggles closer to her twin in an attempt to steal her warmth.

"I was suppose to meet someone there," Arlo concedes, not liking where she knows this conversion will inevitably eventuate.

"They didn't show?" Of course Alison wants details.

"No, they did. That's the problem. They were there but, alas, I was too chicken. Riley just gave me more and more alcohol, thinking that at some point I would no longer care and could just talk to them. However, sometime before I could spontaneously become the most charismatic person in D.C. I was solicited to take photos of Janie and Michael. And that leads us to now," Arlo hopes this where the conversion will cease.

"So who is the guy to whom I owe this public humiliation?" Arlo's insides decide now is the perfect time to audition for rhythmic gymnastics.

 _"Ummm-" That's not a name._

"Knew it." _Busted._

"What?!" _Game. Over_. Arlo rolls over to face her twin.

"You're totally gay." Alison knows, Alison always knew but didn't want to be the one to out her sister.

"Ah- um..." _Those are not words, Arlo._

"There were pretty clear signs," Alison smirks.

"Like what?" Arlo finally regains her ability to speak.

"Your hair for starters, your taste in music, and - the beanie in summertime, I mean, come **on** Arlie." _I'm such a stereotype_!

"Do Mom and Dad know?" If Alison knows, chances are so do their parents.

"I don't think so... maybe? Mom **was** a spy, and I think Dad is currently one, so..."

"Thanks," Arlo smiles for the first time since the story broke.

"For what?" Alison wants to hear the words.

"Always having my back," _There they are_.

"Someone has to keep you out of trouble,"

"Well, evidently you aren't doing a very good job," Arlo deadpans, earning a quiet chuckle from her twin. A comfortable silence falls over the seventeen-year-olds as they both start to slip from consciousness.

Elizabeth opens Alison's bedroom expecting to find the teen mid-text, but is taken aback when she finds the immaculately decorated room empty. She wants to tell her daughter that she understands how this must be frustrating and intrusive but she hopes Alison will go easy on her sister.

Elizabeth pauses outside Jason's room, but continues on once she hears her son give tactical advice for some video game. She walks straight past Stevie's door. Her oldest is out with Jareth and isn't expected to make it home tonight. Elizabeth comes to a halt outside Arlo's room, unsure of state she will find her youngest daughter in. Elizabeth slowly pulls the door ajar and peers inside. The sight she is met with pulls at her heart. Both her little girls are fast asleep, Alison's arms wrapped loosely around her twin.

The girls had shared a room up until their thirteenth birthday when it became a peacemaking decision for them to each have their own space. The move from Langley to Charlottesville shortly after the twins turned six had triggered something in Arlo. She was plagued by violent nightmares for nearly two years. Elizabeth and Henry had taken their daughter to a multitude of child psychologists and even a sleep therapist. They had all come to same consensus - that this was common childhood behavior and she would simply grow out of it. Alison, however, had her own solution. Every night Henry and Elizabeth would read to girls (more often than not giving in to the _just one more story_ trick), tuck them into their own beds and then kiss them, and a select group of teddies, goodnight. When the time came to awaken the girls for school the following morning, Henry or Elizabeth would find both girls tucked up in Arlo's bed. At some point during the night Arlo would start having a nightmare, and Alison had become so in tune with her twin she would wake up, climb out of her own bed, and curl up beside her sister. Once Arlo knew Alison was there she could finally fall into peaceful sleep.

Elizabeth turns and heads with purpose towards the master bedroom. Henry looks up from the book on St Augustine he was finally getting around to reading as his wife enters the room.

"You okay babe?" Elizabeth doesn't answer; she just reaches forward to grab Henry's outstretched hand, pulling him to his feet and leading him into the hallway.

"Babe, where are we going?" Henry is confused by his wife's peculiar behavior.

"Here." Elizabeth stops out the front of Arlo's room and positions herself to once again get a good view of the sleeping teenagers. Henry comes up behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her slender waist, his head resting upon hers. "Just like when they were little girls," Elizabeth muses aloud.

"They are still little girls…in my mind at least." Henry presses a gentle kiss to the crown of Elizabeth's head.

"We haven't completely messed them up, have we?" His wife is fully capable of going toe-to-toe against some of the most ruthless diplomats on the face of the planet. However, when it comes to their four children, she constantly worries about whether she is indeed a good mother. Henry knows this is partly due to the fact that she was orphaned as a thirteen-year-old, but is mostly because she loves their children so incredibly much that she can't bear causing them any pain.

"I think they are just kids, and kids make mistakes. We weren't prefect either, we just didn't have the whole world watching on." Elizabeth turns to face Henry.

"It's character building, right?" she justifies.

"Something like that" Henry replies as he closes the gap between them, stopping once their foreheads meet and smiles fondly at his wife, who is clearly still deep in thought. Henry knows, now more than ever, that she is most definitely the one.

"Time for bed, Mrs McCord!" Henry decides as he threads his right arm under her knees, earning a small squeal, and proceeds to carry his laughingly protesting wife back into their bedroom.


End file.
